points of light
by ifonly13
Summary: He can't help but think of T.S. Eliot at times like this.
1. Chapter 1

**Note from Logan:** This started as a three sentence AU meme on tumblr. Paula, who prompted it, said she'd like to see more of the universe I came up with in those three sentences and because I was rather fond of it, I expanded it.

* * *

_"I want you here. I don't care if it's a hundred degrees or every blade of grass dies. Without you, none of that matters to me." -Kami Garcia_

* * *

He can't help but think of T.S. Eliot at times like this.

He read the poem while at Edgewyck and pulled apart the stanzas for Mr. Harris-Schmitt and then tried to make sense of the pieces for that final paper.

_This is how the world ends  
__This is how the world ends  
__This is how the world ends  
__Not with a bang but a whimper._

He didn't really get it until this all happened.

Though, he'd have to disagree with Mr. Eliot on the last line because now, unlike the poet, he has first-hand experience.

The bang came first. Loud and rattling everything in the city and completely unpredicted. A painting fell in his bedroom and he heard dishes shatter in the kitchen. The electricity flickered and he remembers being frustrated with the disruption to his writing sprint as the screen went black for a moment. Then everything around him was pitched sharply into darkness. The kind that doesn't happen on Manhattan or within miles of the city.

The whimpering came later. It filtered in through the glass panes of the apartment from the street below and from the neighbors across the hall and from the transistor radio he found in the second drawer of his desk.

The whimpering still comes.

He takes a deep breath, trying to focus himself enough to come up with a plan.

His mother and daughter aren't home, weren't home when it happened, and he struggles to begin accepting that this might mean they're gone from him. In the oppressive darkness, there's no way to find a match to light that candle of hope.

Which means he also needs to acknowledge that Kate Beckett is also lost to him.

The thought makes him grip the gun a little tighter. He found it on the top of their bureau, safety on and magazine loaded, and he is so thankful that she forgot her second piece at home in her rush to get out the door on that last, bright morning.

No. She's still alive. Somewhere.

He just needs to find her.

Castle pushes off the bookshelf - he thinks it's the bookshelf but can't be sure - and walks slowly toward the front door. His feet bump into furniture as he feels his way through his living room. The moonlight provides enough illumination so that the shadows dance along the walls and on the ceiling as he gets to the front door.

He hasn't been outside the loft since this all started. The fuzzy, static radio has been reporting hordes of unfriendlies in the streets, ransacking apartments and stores and he hasn't wanted to risk it. No choice now.

Even if he can't find Kate, he needs food.

Readjusting his grip on the gun and checking to make sure his phone, useless as it is, is in his pocket, Castle opens the door.

The hallway is empty and quiet. The groaning continues but after days, it has become background noise, easily ignored as he makes his way down the hall toward the stairs. It takes nearly half an hour to clear each level of the stairwell before he gets to the lobby.

Here, the moon reflects off the marble floor, highlighting the dirty shoeprints that crisscross the lobby area. The vase of flowers typically on the security desk is smashed, glass scattered. He finds a shoe and a pair of pants in a corner.

It's disconcerting. And the sounds of the dying and the unfriendlies is louder on the street.

Castle tucks himself back into the shadows to figure out his route uptown. The subway system has to be down. He wants to shy away from Midtown with the tourist areas, the places where there would be more chance of him running into unfriendlies.

He starts toward Sixth Ave, staying to the edge of the sidewalk with the gun resting against his thigh. The breeze whips at him, brutally cold despite the heat wave still lingering into the start of autumn. He longs for a heavier jacket than the dusty green coat he managed to locate in the closet. Nothing for it now but to keep moving.

He nearly makes it to the intersection onto Greenwich before he encounters a cluster of unfriendlies. A group of four in deep grey uniforms with guns sweeping a path in front of them. Castle doubles back, ducking into the darkness of a shop entrance and praying they walk the other way. The footsteps get closer and he stops breathing.

The men pause at the end of the street. His hand tightens on the gun at his side, finger on the trigger. They talk, a garbled language through the devices attached to their helmets, before turning north up Sixth.

Castle huffs out a quick 'thank you' to the universe, waiting a minute to get back onto Greenwich. The apartments and storefronts are dark. It's eerie to not see anyone like him, running toward and away from. A window shatters overhead and he jogs to an awning to escape the rain of glass that is immediately followed by a scream that echoes off the brick. Like the city has been transported back to post-Sandy.

He fights the urge to run up and help the person. Fighting the savior complex that normally has him jumping in front of bullets and running into burning buildings and lying to his best friend for a year. Instead, he pushes off the wall and gets to Eighth Ave. The whole length of the street stretches up in front of him, intimidating and far, far too long.

Only forty blocks to go.


	2. Chapter 2

Columbus Circle is too open. He stays along the eastern edge of the rotary, away from the fountain in the middle and the empty streets. The water from the center park trickles in the silence for the nonexistent crowds.

Castle avoids the subway station entrances along the center of Broadway. If this event is anything like the movies, the underground tunnels are the last place he wants to venture. The still-green trees on the median rustle in the breeze, shadows dancing along the buildings. It messes with him and he ends up pressing himself into alleys and alcoves too often on the way up to Columbus.

Lincoln Center, normally packed with theatre and opera and ballet-goers, is quiet. He doesn't stop to admire the buildings as he continues up Columbus Ave. at a swift pace. Until at West 75th, two unfriendlies step into the intersection.

He hardly has time to raise his gun before one of the men fires, the bullet grazing his bicep as he rolls into the patio area of a restaurant, the hedges providing some cover. His arm stings as he twists to return fire, getting one of them in the chest and ducking back down before the remaining unfriendly can aim. The bullet zips over his head. Without thinking, Castle stands and fires two shots in the direction of the man and manages to land one in the guy's stomach.

The fresh rush of adrenaline sets his hands shaking as he crouches to check their bodies for ammunition, pocketing the two loaded magazines of 9mm bullets before pushing on. Past the Shake Shack he made runs to during long cases when Remy's was too far and the Starbucks right around the corner from the precinct that he'd get her morning coffee from. The nostalgia hits him square in the chest, making him stop under the shade of one of the trees. Already ancient history after only a couple of days.

He swallows the dread lodged in his throat and starts down West 82nd. She's alive. She has to be.

All of the blue-and-whites are still parked along the narrow street. His heart skips when he sees Beckett's car, tucked in the small parking lot next to the precinct. It's not a sign either way and he pushes the hope back down before it can flame brighter.

The door is unlocked, the metal detector off. He hesitates in the lobby, right next to the memorial wall of officers who passed away in the line. He needs to be cautious. The unfriendlies have proven that they like to hide out in old buildings and with the armories available in police stations, a place like the Twelfth would be their first stop.

But the desire to find her now that he's so close overruns the part of his brain that tells him to clear each floor. He runs up the stairwell using his free hand to swing himself around each landing. On the third floor, he finds a single unfriendly rifling through a file. Castle takes him out before the man in grey notices him.

His hand shakes as he rounds the corner into the homicide bullpen. Unoccupied desks, a murder board abandoned against the wall, and a precinct quieter than he has ever imagined.

He glances into Gates's office, finds it empty. The door to the conference room is shut. He takes a steadying breath and opens the door a crack, the gun at eye-level just in case more unfriendlies linger. Instead, he finds a ghost, her own arms trembling a little under the weight of her weapon as she aims it at him.

She barely has time to murmur his name before he knocks her gun aside and gathers her up against his chest, her fingers curling tightly into the dirty fabric of his shirt, her lips painting the words into his neck. "Oh, thank god," she half-sobs, pressing a kiss at the base of his throat despite the grime caked there. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"You're okay though?" he asks, breathless as he brushes a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.

Her eyes are a little unfocused when she looks up at him. "I'm…" She sways back against the wall, rubbing at her forehead with the back of the hand still gripping her gun. "I'm fi─"

"Don't lie. Jesus, Kate, I can't do this if we lie to each other."

She scrapes her fingernails over the stained hardwood. "Barely holding it together," she says in a rush. Her head falls onto his shoulder when he wedges himself between her and one of the filing cabinets. "Panic attacks, flashbacks. Nightmares on the nights I manage to close my eyes." Her left hand scrambles against his thigh until he puts his palm over it. "I thought I saw you there," she whispers, pointing with her gun toward Gates's office, "a few times."

He touches his lips to her temple, gathering her hair at the back of her neck. His throat bobs as he tries to speak but comes up empty. The words turned off just like the power in the city. All he manages is her name, raspy and low into her ear, hoping to convey just how thankful he is to have found her alive in that one syllable.


	3. Chapter 3

He wants to ask about Esposito and Ryan and Gates. The curiosity burns low in his stomach even as she breathes into his shoulder, alive and here. But they're barely holding it together and he doesn't want to break the fragile truce.

"You hungry?" he asks instead, shifting from side to side in an attempt to wake up muscles that have gone to sleep.

"No food," she replies quietly. "Ate what was in the fridge that didn't go bad. Vending machines don't work. It's a good thing you got here when you did. Was about to leave and try to find somewhere else to hide with bottled water and canned food."

"Too bad we didn't get to my bunker in time," he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

Her laugh is short and very nearly silent but he can feel her body shake just a little. "You don't have a bunker, Castle."

"When we get out of this, I'm getting one. And we're not ever leaving it."

"Fine with me," she promises.

He needs to get her food. Now. The way she trembles against his side and her voice never goes over a loud whisper has concern cutting through him.

"Kate?"

She hums, her head heavy on his shoulder and her loose hair making the shallow bullet wound he had forgotten about sting.

"We need to go," he says, nudging at her body until she rests in the corner of the room. "We need to get out of here."

"And go where?"

"Think we can make it up to Whole Foods past 97th? There'd be food and water."

Kate nods slowly. "Let's do it." She pushes up, using the wall far too much for Castle's comfort, and just barely catches herself on the file cabinet. She glares when he reaches out catch her. "I'm okay. Just… Let's get going."

He grabs her wrist, pulling her back into the corner. "Kate," he murmurs, his forehead falling down to hers. "I can't lose you again."

Her hand smooths over his stubbled cheek, thumb tracing the line of his lower lip. "You're not going to. We're together now. How many trials have we survived together?"

"Too many," he says, turning his head to press a kiss to her palm, feeling her shiver at the contact. "Just pushing our luck now."

"Hey." He opens his eyes and finds her smiling tentatively. "We're going to be fine."

Castle reaches into his pocket and takes out one of the clips of ammo. "Here."

She pushes it back into his stomach. "Got my own," she says, searching in the pocket of her blazer and pulling out three clips. "Found them in Esposito's desk. You keep those."

He winces as he puts the extra bullets back into his pocket. A glance down at his right arm shows, in shades of shadow, the ripped fabric of his shirt and the darker line of blood from the graze of the bullet.

"Castle, what happened?" she asks, touching her fingertips lightly to the area.

"Got shot trying to find you. Manly, huh?"

"First aid kit in the break room," she says, trailing her fingers down to tangle with his. "Come on. We'll clean you up and then hit the road."

He feels better to have her back at his side as she leads the way across the precinct. Sure, they're both tense with hands on their guns and eyes trained on the corners of the bullpen but now he can have her back just as surely as she has his.

The first aid kit has a crank-powered flashlight buried under the unraveled elastic bandages and mess of antiseptic wipes. Castle sits on the couch as he spins the wheel, watching Kate dig until she finds a large band-aid and some still-sealed wipes.

"Let there be light," he says a moment before flipping the flashlight on, a hand up to shield the beam so their eyes can adjust to the sudden change.

He takes the chance to look at her in the filtered light. Really look at her.

She's a little thinner and her hair is tangled up in the hair elastic caught at the bottom of her neck. She looks exhausted and figures that's due to the nightmares, real and imagined, keeping her from truly sleeping. They can fix that once they get to Whole Foods by coming up with a schedule to sleep and keep watch. Her hands shake while holding the first aid supplies, her gun in the other hand. The dress pants have lost the sharp creases she normally prides herself on and her cream sweater is dirty.

"Castle? You with me still?"

He nods, following her eyes as she scans his body in a manner similar to his own examination of her. "Yeah."

"Need you to take off your shirt so I can get at your arm," Kate says, her gaze darting away from him to watch the doorways as he unbuttons the dress shirt and shrugs it off.

Castle picks his gun back up, letting her know that he'll cover the room in a low whisper, and shifts so he can aim the flashlight at his upper arm at the same time. He isn't great with his left hand but he knows she's fast.

The wipe stings a bit as she cleans up the edges of the wound and he hisses between his teeth when she presses the band-aid down over the graze. She murmurs an apology into his hair, leaning hard into his back and her arms wrapped around his chest so her lips can just barely clear his ear.

"Thank you," she sighs, "for coming to find me."

He pulls up the old response, falling back on the familiar. "It's what partners do," he says, getting up off the couch. "Let's go."

He leaves the torn dress shirt behind.


	4. Chapter 4

She seems stronger when they hit the lobby. Pausing in the corner of the stairwell, she fixes her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail and tucking the shorter hairs behind her ears. Looking more like the Beckett he knows.

"Which way once we get to Columbus?" she asks, voice steady while she checks her gun.

It makes him feel better, having her participate with the plan. Hell, having her here, close enough for him to reach out and touch, is helping. "North. Like, a mile or something."

"Okay. Okay," she repeats.

They move quietly to the doors, her half a foot in front of him to push open the door to check the sidewalk.

"Clear," she says, using her foot to hold the door open as they slip out into the street.

She starts a steady jog down the sidewalk and he stays at her heels. He wants to go back in time and stop this thing from happening. He wants to wake up in bed with her legs tangled between his and her hair a soft blanket over his chest. He wants so desperately to keep the woman running point in front of him safe.

But he can't so they start up Columbus.

"Where are Alexis and Martha?" she asks as the cross an intersection.

He doesn't want to do this now. He doesn't want to say it out loud and make it all real. Kate turns, not stopping, to make sure he's still there.

"Castle?"

"Not now," he says. "I can't do that right now."

She nods, reaching back to just let her hand trail over his wrist. The slightest touch of comfort as the push through the darkness uptown.

He considers it a minor miracle that they make it ten blocks before encountering a squad of unfriendlies. "Six," he whispers up to her even though he knows she's already done a count herself.

"Yeah. Right onto 91st. There's a playground that might provide some cover."

The foolish hope that they'd make it to the playground fizzles out before it has a chance to really catch. The gate is locked, a sign declaring the area closed for construction mocking them from the chain-linked fence.

"Can you climb it?" she asks in a rush. When he nods, she gives him a shove toward the fence. "Go."

"You first," he says, free hand curled around the mesh.

"No, Castle." She isn't looking at him, focused on the corner of the street where the unfriendlies are about to turn and finally see them. "I'm the cop. It's my job."

He doesn't get a chance to remind her that they're partners before she pinches his side and gets him moving again. The metal wobbles under his feet when he scrambles up and over the fence, his ankles singing with pain when he lands. When he turns, Kate already has a foot in the fence, lifting herself up until the hand not holding tight to her gun grabs onto the top rail.

She dangles for a moment until she finds another foothold further up, enough that she can swing her right leg over the top.

"I've got you," he murmurs, letting her use his linked hands as a platform so she can flip to the other side of the fence and drop to the ground.

Kate squeezes his arm. "Cover. Now."

The survey of the playground doesn't look promising. On a brick-red and black checkered portion sits a jungle gym. Two platforms with a bridge connecting them. A lot of open bars along the playground which makes sense for parents' sense of security watching their kids but provides next-to-nothing for their personal safety. The other side of the playground looks like a basketball court but without the nets. Instead, it's a collection of construction material and one miniature backhoe.

Her name is a harsh whisper in the quiet. And he sees the moment she falls back on training that goes as deep into her very being as her need for justice and her love.

"Construction material. Behind the piles of plywood and the backhoe."

He dives into the cover provided by the tall stack of wood, her body landing heavy on his.

"Stay down," she says into his ear.

He hears the unfriendlies talking, garbled words that make no sense but they sound confused. Castle stops breathing, working not to close his eyes and shiver when he feels her breath wash over his neck. His fingers itch to curl into her hip so he presses them into the dirt underneath their bodies.

A light flicks on, bright and overhead.

But the bullets that come aren't aimed at them. The unfriendlies shout and their heavy footsteps stomp away down the street toward Central Park.

Kate gets up, reaching an arm down to help him to his feet. "To the other side of the playground. We can get onto 92nd and keep moving north."

The climb over the fence is less graceful this time. Adrenaline makes him jerky and uncoordinated as he catches the hem of the t-shirt on the mesh and rips it on the drop to the sidewalk. She tosses her gun to him after she nearly falls back onto the cement of the basketball court, using both arms to pull herself up.

His laugh is one of relief, short and breathless as he starts back toward Columbus, crossing the street between cars left in the middle of their drive. It'd be so much easier if he could just slide into the passenger's seat as she takes the wheel and gets them the fuck out of Manhattan.

"Five more blocks," he says when the hit the intersection. "I think it's on the west side of the street, though."

"We'll cross at 95th," says Kate in response, focusing her breathing. "Wait until we get closer and can get eyes into the building." She traces her forefinger up through the tear in his shirt. "You okay?"

He ignores the ripple of arousal that flares up under his skin. "Fine. Arm stings a bit."

Her hand switches to his bicep, to the edge of the bandage visible under the dark fabric of his tee. "Can you make it to the store?"

"Yeah. Totally."

But as they start the run up the sidewalk and the stinging turns into a sharp, piercing pain, he's not so sure.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm going to head up and check it out," she says when they get to the corner of 97th Street.

They're tucked down behind a parked minivan, out of sight of the Whole Foods and its wide windows. His right hand shakes, the pain of the bullet wound escalating from the feeling of someone stabbing him repeatedly to a numbness that has crept down to his fingertips. He refuses to tell her.

"Not alone," he tells her, his voice firm in a way his grip isn't. "We're in this together. Whatever this is."

Her eyes scrape over him, looking for signs of weakness. He presses his fist against his knee and hopes she doesn't catch the wavering of the gun.

She sighs. "You're going to come after me anyway, aren't you?"

"Haven't changed that much, Beckett."

Her voice goes soft. "We don't have vests, Castle. No back-up or protection. You follow my lead," she says and all he wants in the world is to touch his lips to that crease of worry in her forehead, to take her out to the Hamptons and let her lay out by the pool. "For real, this time."

"Promise." She starts to open her mouth to add in another retort but he cuts her off. "I promise. I want to get us out of this alive."

"I go in first," she says, eyes closed as if pulling herself together. "We clear each room. You go high through the doors. Don't question my orders. We get to the back room of the store and we stay there until we're sure it's clear. Then and only then do we go out to get supplies from the aisles. Understand?"

"Yes."

She slips out in front of the car, staying low as they cross the street. The front windows of the store are dark as she pulls one of the doors open, waiting until he grabs it to move in. He follows her command to cover the left side as they sweep into the produce section at the front.

The grocery store feels huge as they work down the aisles. In the corner of the bakery, behind glass display cases of fruit tarts and cupcakes and bread, they find an employee's only door. Castle points at it, getting a nod in response.

Kate pauses at the door, hand on the knob until Castle gets into place on the other side. She mouths the countdown before opening the door.

Lots of darkness. But, thankfully, silence. The type of silence that is true, not filled with the rustle of clothing as people hold their breaths or the click of triggers being prepared. Still, Kate has them check the room, locking the door behind them.

"All clear," she sighs, resting her back against the far wall and sliding down.

He drops to his knees at her hip, the gun falling to the tile as he grabs her face. The kiss is rough as he pours the relief and anxiety and love into her mouth. Her hands run over his chest, short nails scraping over the fabric before shoving him backwards. For a moment, the sting of his arm is overrun by the sting of rejection running fast through his veins.

But then she climbs over his legs, an arm hooked around his neck and lips against his jaw and her knees tight at his hips. All renewed fire and life in his lap.

Her name a low groan in the base of his throat, Castle tangles his hands into her ponytail and finally reassures himself that she is completely and totally alive.

* * *

He bears the majority of her weight as the rest in the corner of the far wall. Somehow they managed to half-dress themselves again: she has her shirt buttoned twice in the very middle so the top and bottom gapes to expose her skin and he pulled his pants back on, left the belt across the room.

Her body is heavy with sleep and he's glad that she's able to let go and get some rest. She needs it. They didn't have a chance to come up with a watch schedule, though, so he takes first shift; he's not going to wake her. His gun rests next to his hand, hers only a short distance away on top of her pants.

She mumbles something into his neck, bare feet pressing down on his foot as she stretches out. Her fingers curl into a fist that rests on his chest and her nose scrunching up before she relaxes again, her body going loose and liquid against him.

For a moment, he can almost believe everything is normal.

Minus the torn shirt under his ass and the bullet graze and her too-thin body draped over his side. And the fact that they're currently hiding in a Whole Foods after all of the power and electronics in the city just cut out.

Castle looks down at her, his fingers brushing over the soft skin of her waist.

He's getting her out of here.

He's getting her out of here if it kills him.


	6. Chapter 6

She jerks awake, her knee hitting hard at his thigh. "Castle, where…"

He loosens his grip on the gun so he can smooth his hands over her shoulders, feeling her shake under his palms. "Safe. We're safe."

Awareness makes her relax back into the wall on a sigh. "Okay."

"I have a plan," he says, handing over her gun.

She sits back, checking to make sure the weapon is on safety instead of looking at him.

He takes her silence as an encouragement to continue. "We need bikes. They don't run on electricity so we can get out of here. I had a transistor radio back at the loft after this went down and it seemed like New York was the only place affected. If we can get over to New Jersey or even up to Yonkers or Mt. Vernon, I think we'll be fine. Maybe grab a car and get further away from this shit."

"Good job," she says, getting to her feet. Castle reaches out to trail his fingers down the line of her thigh as she walks past to grab her pants. "Where're we going to find bikes?"

"I'd Google but phone's useless. My guess was just go around the neighborhood and cross our fingers?"

"Not so solid there, Castle."

"But I tried." He pushes up off the wall, glancing at the torn shirt before shaking his head. "You need food."

He winces when she touches his arm. "And you need a doctor."

She's right. The skin around the band-aid is swollen and red. But there's no way he's going to let her put off eating in order to get him medical help.

"Food first. Come on," he says, picking up his own gun. "My treat for dinner."

Sunlight splashes brightly onto the floor of the store as they move slowly from the back room. He lets the tiny shimmer of hope that the light brings zip through him while Kate leads the way over to the canned food; the produce, breads, and deli meats probably went bad without the refrigeration.

"Find a can opener?" she asks, already scanning the rows and rows of food.

He hates to leave her even if it's just to go to the end of the aisle and look for an opener. But he does, jogging to check the hanging handheld appliances near the front of the store. Castle finds a can opener and snags one of the recyclable bags from the register closest to him.

"Here," he says, holding the bag open when he finds her with her arms full of cans of vegetables.

She sits, falls onto her ass, as she piles the cans into the bag. "Nice. We'll need some water and we need to change that bandage on your arm."

Not until she eats. Not until she's safe.

Castle puts the bag over his shoulder, gritting his teeth, before helping her up. He lets her lead the way over to the aisle with shelves of bottled water. Kate hefts up two flats of water, swaying into the shelf.

"Let me get those," he insists, already reaching for the cardboard bottoms.

She shifts, turning her back on him. "No. I saw you when you picked up the bag back there. I'm fine with these. Now, first aid stuff."

"Kate," he grunts, trying to get ahead of her and failing. "No. Food first."

You first.

She studies him. Her eyes linger on his arm, the lines of exhaustion joining the lines of laughter along his face. He refuses to shift under her gaze, not until she nods, sighing as if giving in to him physically costs her some energy.

"Food first."

They start back to the bakery.

It's a small victory.


	7. Chapter 7

Plastic silverware and cans of green beans and peas with bottled water is not the kind of first-date-post-apocalypse he wants to give her. He wanted candles and wine and her favorite cider pork chops with real forks and knives. He wanted her in a dress.

But he settles.

For the first time since Kate Beckett came into his life - since she _really_ came into his life - he settles where it comes to her.

She's tucked up against his side with a can of mixed peas and carrots resting on her thigh. The white plastic fork dangles from her fingers. He picks at some of his green beans before stealing a forkful from her can.

It's not Chinese but their same basic rules apply. They pick their favorites but end up sneaking bites from the other's carton halfway through the meal.

"Castle."

He grunts in response. She hasn't jerked her can of food away from him so she's not annoyed by his thieving. It's something else.

"What if we don't get out?"

Her voice is quiet even coming from right below his head. He hears something he has only heard shimmer through her voice a handful of times before.

Fear.

He clings to the optimism that he knows she expects from him. "We're going to be fine," he murmurs, turning to press a kiss to her hair. "We finish these cans and we'll go out and find some bikes. Bring them back here and wait until tomorrow morning to start out." He sets aside the can of green beans, shifting to look at her. "Take the Lincoln Tunnel over to Jersey."

She groans, pushing her forehead against his arm. "How do you do it?" When he hums, taking more of her carrots, she continues. "Stay so positive."

"You."

A glance down lets him see her furrowed brow, confusion evident on a face that looks more awake and aware than it did back in the precinct's conference room. At least that's something.

"Jesus, Kate," he says, free hand coasting down her hair and over her back. "Do you have any idea how amazing you are? How much you've changed me over the years? Yeah, it's hard to see the light at the end of all this but as long as you're here with me, I can believe that there is hope for us."

She shoves her hand against the floor, getting her face just close enough to his to dust her lips over his. "I love you."

He ignores the hint of _goodbye_ in her tone. He has to. "Love you."

They don't talk as they finish the current cans of vegetables, piling them into the opposite corner. She takes the plastic forks and stashes them into the recyclable bag while Castle shrugs back on his ripped t-shirt.

"Okay," she says, re-doing her ponytail before taking her gun from Castle. "Let's go."

It must be late afternoon. The sunlight that was so bright and hopeful when they went out into the store earlier has dulled down. It hits her hair when they get to the front doors, making even her dirty, tangled hair into a burnished bronze.

They go down 97th toward the river. She wants to split up, take one side of the road each, and scan for chained-up bikes that way. He can't ignore the skittering of nerves the idea sends down his spine. They stay together.

And she gets lucky as they cross West End Ave.

Four bikes chained to the fence outside an apartment building, the links looped between the scroll-worked metal.

She kneels by the lock, testing the strength of the chain. Looking for a weak spot to go after as if the links are a perp in her interrogation room. He only drifts far enough to find something to break the chain, returning to her side with a bar from another fence that was loose enough to kick off.

"Here," he says, handing her the chipped white bar. "Maybe we can use it to snap one of the links."

Half an hour later, they have two bikes.

Half an hour later, walking in the shadows of the buildings with the handlebars bumping into one another, they have a drop of hope.


	8. Chapter 8

The bikes are propped up against the far wall in the back room of the store. Two minutes later, she drags him back out into the aisles for first aid supplies.

"Kate," he says, trailing behind her as she grabs for bandages and sterile wipes.

She spins quickly, drilling a finger into his shoulder. "No. You said after we had food. Done. Then we went out and got transportation. I'm done with you postponing your own good for mine."

With arms full of first aid supplies, she turns back for the the back room even as he whispers her name.

There at the end of the aisle is an unfriendly, her gun trained on Kate's back.

Kate's gun peeks from under her shirt, useless to her, but Castle slowly flicks the safety off on his own weapon. She nods.

It takes two quick shots. Two because his hand wavers when he first swings his arm up and the shot goes wide to the left. But the unfriendly drops.

"Shit," she mutters. "We're getting sloppy."

Castle pulls the body to the back of the store, behind the seafood counter and out of sight from the front windows. He takes the unfriendly's weapon and spare ammo before following Kate to their safe room.

He wants to leave the door open, try to pull in some of the late afternoon light, but he knows they can't. Not after such a close call. So he lets the door click shut behind him.

"Sit," Kate demands, pointing to the corner.

She dumps the bandages and wipes and tape into a pile next to his knee, sitting cross-legged at his side and pushing up the shirt to get at the wide band-aid. Her fingers are cool and soft as she rolls up the sleeve, smoothing down the curve of his shoulder. Almost too gentle.

"This might hurt," she warns as she wiggles a nail under the edge of the band-aid.

"Nike, Kate."

"What?"

He grins. "Just do it. Nike."

She slaps his chest, leaning over him brush her lips to the corner of his mouth. "That was stupid."

"Kinda, yeah."

He's grateful that she doesn't count down. Instead, she just rips the band-aid off. The pain flares up from the sudden shock to the already reddened skin making him grit his teeth. Still, a curse escapes on a breath when she touches her fingertips to the area.

"I think it's infected," she says quietly, using her free hand to twist her hair back and push it down under the neckline of her shirt to keep it out of her way; strands are escaping the too-loose hair elastic. "Not good."

"Nothing for it right now," he sighs, resting his head against the wall. "Just… do what you can."

She skims her hand over his thigh. "As soon as we get out of here, first stop is a hospital," she warns, ripping open one of the antiseptic wipes. "If I have to drag you there after knocking you unconscious."

He starts to respond, something about wanting to see her try, but then she presses the wipe to the edges of the wound and the words are erased as he tries not to hiss in pain. Kate murmurs apologies into the air, her eyes focused on his upper arm as she cleans it up as much as she can.

"We're leaving tonight," she says while she smears some ointment onto a pad of gauze that she places over the swollen graze. Holding it in place with one hand, she grabs the elastic bandage, unhooking the metal fasteners with her teeth. She wraps it tightly and he sees her eyes glance down to his fisted hand, back up to the hard line of his jaw before she takes a deeper breath and keeps going. "It's not safe here anymore."

"Might be safer under darkness anyway," he adds, watching as she secures the bandage with the metal hooks.

She tapes down the hooks, her thumbs careful of the pressure she applies. "As soon as the sun sets, we're gone."

"Good thing you picked the girly bike," he teases, nodding toward the pair against the wall. "We've got a basket to carry some food in now."

Kate stands, dropping the used supplies into the corner with their empty cans, coming back to sit at his good side. "Here," she says, handing him a bottle of water and a couple of pain relievers. "Might help." Her head falls to his shoulder, her arm slipping under his until she can slide their fingers together.

His arm aches as he twists the cap off, swallowing the pills with a mouthful of water.

"You're exhausted."

"I'm fine," he says. Maybe if he denies it, his body will comply.

"Castle," she groans, squeezing at his hand. "You're falling asleep on me right now. Take a nap until the sun sets. I'll watch the door."

Her thumb rubs little circles against his knuckles.

It takes two minutes for him to drop into sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

"Castle?" Her fingertips tap against his jaw. "Hey, Castle. We need to go. Come on."

He wakes slowly, pulling himself from the deep exhaustion by focusing on her voice and touch. "Awake. I am." But it takes him another minute to really get some of his awareness back; the darkness in the back room doesn't help.

He feels better. His arm doesn't throb and it doesn't feel like he's about to fall over.

Still, she reaches a hand down to help him to his feet. He's pleased that he doesn't sway right into her. Instead, his right hand lands on her hip, pulling her up against him so he can feel her hips pressed into his. Needing the connection for just a moment.

"We need to pack the ─"

"Already done. You slept hard."

He groans, coasting his hand up along her back and fisting into her shirt. Then he pulls the fear back in and lets her go. "Okay."

Castle moves around her to take hold of the bike, adjusting the height of the seat. She does the same, making sure the cans of food tucked into the wicker basket on her handlebars are secure.

"Gun?" he asks, unable to feel the cool metal against his skin.

"Here," she responds, handing him the weapon. "You fell asleep with it. Didn't need you with a second bullet wound."

He's glad she can almost joke about it. He takes the gun without comment and follows her out into the store.

"I think New Jersey's closer than going north," she says, heading up the aisle toward the front. "Take the Lincoln Tunnel."

"Yeah, okay."

"Hey," she says firmly. "We're going to make it. Others had to have made it out of the city alive. We've beat the odds before."

"What if we used up our chances already?"

Kate pauses. He knows it is because he would normally be the one looking for the sparkle of a silver lining in the neverending darkness. He knows it is because he isn't doing that now. He knows it worries her from the clenching of her hands on the grips of the bike.

"We can do this."

She doesn't wait for the four words to settle before she starts moving again, using her hip to push open the front doors. "I think our best bet is to get to the Palisades Medical Center. It's a long ride but at least we'd have medical supplies and food there."

"Kate."

"And maybe they'll have working phones so we can find out about our family. I know my dad was upstate so he might be fine but Alexis and your mother and the boys?"

"Beckett," he growls, grabbing her sleeve. "Stop. Just… Stop for a minute."

"I can't." Her eyes are too dark when she spins to face him. "I stop and I will fall apart. I stop and all I think of are the nightmares from those nights in the precinct. I can't stop."

The wavering of her voice makes him freeze on the sidewalk. But she keeps moving, swinging her leg over the bike. So he follows. He always follows Kate Beckett.

It's awkward to try and ride while also gripping the gun in his right hand. The back tire squeaks when he hits the brakes. There's a spring that jabs into his ass. His arm burns bright with pain.

But he focuses on Kate's back as she starts down Columbus. She doesn't complain and he knows she's not at one hundred percent. Neither of them are and he's always the one to vocalize his weakness. She never does and he wants to pull in some of her inner strength just for this moment. To keep the whining in and focus on getting to New Jersey.

It doesn't mean staying silent.

"I'm sorry," he says loud enough for her to hear. "I wish I could go back to before all of this happened and get out. Get everyone we love somewhere safe." He swallows when they go past the precinct and he hopes this isn't the last time he sees the place that has become home. "When this is over, we're going on vacation. Anywhere but here. Where do you want to go?"

"Home," comes her voice on the wind. "I want to go home."

He tries not to hear the sorrow, the strain in her answer. It's there, though, and it slices through his thin veil of optimism.

Without an answer, he pushes on, keeping to her tail and having her back.


	10. Chapter 10

The lights aren't working in the tunnel and the shades of darkness are disorienting. Kate balances on her toes to keep the bike steady just outside the entrance of the Lincoln Tunnel.

"How're we going to keep track of one another in there?" she asks, pulling on her ponytail.

"Keep talking?"

She grins. He can't see it in the black of the night but he hears it when she speaks. "Yeah, you'd be all over that method. But it's going to echo and just make things worse."

"Wait." Castle fishes in his pocket, the handlebars of the bike twisting perpendicular. The hand-crank flashlight. "This. I think it'll be just enough light that we can stick together."

"I'll clip it to my pants," she says, already working at the crank to charge the batteries. "You know this could take a while, right? Going through the tunnel?"

The darkness in front of them, stretching out into infinity, is daunting.

Nothing for them has ever been easy.

"We can do it," he responds finally. "But first." His bike topples over as he clambers to her side, fisting her shirt in his right hand. The kiss is soft and he pours the remaining hope from his well into her mouth. He feels her breath shudder out, her forehead falling to his shoulder. "I'll get you home, Kate."

She nods, fast and jerky, before she reaches down to loosen his hand from her shirt. "New Jersey first."

New Jersey first. Then home.

If home is even possible.

He gets back on his bike as she finishes cranking the flashlight. He watches the muscles of her arm and back flex as she spins the plastic handle in circles. Her hair is matted, sticking to her neck with sweat and oil, and there are deep circles under her eyes that he can only see when she flips the switch of the flashlight.

"Ready?" she asks, working the clip over the waistband of her pants so the light floats down to the pavement.

No. But he nods. "Let's go."

It takes him a moment to push off, to get the bike started into the tunnel. The flashlight does nothing to combat the darkness and he can almost see the poetry in it. How little they mean to the world, how weak their light is against everything else in this city.

After a minute, he needs noise, some sort of sound to break apart the silence as they travel under the Hudson.

"Once this is all over," he starts quietly, eyes on her back and the thin light off her hip. "If we survive, do─"

"When. When we get back home," she prompts.

"Okay. When we get home, do you want kids?"

He hears her breath catch, the subtle sound echoing. "Do you?"

"Asked you first."

She doesn't answer. Not for almost a full minute. "I don't know," she says finally. "Not if the world is going to be like this. But if everything works out, a girl." The wistfulness that leaks into her words makes his heart melt. "My looks but your sense of freedom."

Castle sighs, just her name because he can't find any other words.

Her peddling slows and he knows she's picturing it. Their life, lives, when they get back home. A pregnancy and turning the guest room into a nursery. Bringing the baby into the loft and not sleeping for the next year, taking turns quieting the cries and causing joyful laughter. First steps and first words and even though he's been through all of it, it'll be so brand new. Because of Kate.

The road curves and green light shines against the tiles of the walls. He laughs and her eyes dart to him. "Just…" He waves to the exit. "The light at the end of the tunnel."

She grins. "Let's hope."

* * *

People with guns stand at the arch of the tunnel's exit, every single one of them alert as the two bikes brake at the line of darkness and light. One steps toward them when Kate puts her hand in her pocket, the guns raising up to steady on her figure.

"Wait!" he shouts, scrambling off the bike and toward her before half the weapons turn on him.

Kate stays calm, free hand steadying the handlebars as she holds up her badge. "I'm NYPD," she says, "and he's my partner. We aren't infected."

"And we're supposed to trust you?" one of the women asks.

"Yes," Castle says, stepping closer to Kate's side. "Because someone trusted you when you got over here. All we're asking is the same favor."

Something ripples through the guards and the guns lower.

Which is perfect because it takes five seconds for him to lose consciousness.


	11. Chapter 11

The bed is soft under his fingers when he wakes. His head hurts but the burn of his arm has dulled to a barely-there shimmering of pain.

It's the fluorescent light overhead that makes him sit up.

"Easy, Castle." Kate sounds tired and too far away. "You're okay."

"Where…?"

"Palisades. We made it."

When he turns his head, she's not at his side. Not close enough to touch, at least. She's across the room in her own bed, her own IVs and monitors hooked up. Her hair is still unwashed, tamed by a hair elastic that makes the dull strands hang over her right shoulder. "What happened back there?" he asks, his voice so quiet he almost isn't sure he spoke at all.

She smiles slowly. "You fainted like a drama queen. Apparently our combined weakness convinced those guards that we weren't going to cause any trouble. Got you into a SUV and up here." Kate traces her fingers along the rail of her bed. "How's the arm?"

"Better, I think," he says, glancing down. Everything below his shoulder is bare of the hospital gown. The elastic bandage is clean, wrapped around his arm to hold the gauze against the graze. But the skin doesn't spark in pain when he shifts and his bicep twitches. "Either really good drugs or the infection is gone."

"Let's aim for the second choice," she breathes. "Though you've probably got decent drugs too."

He swallows, mouth and throat dry. "I want to touch you," he groans. "Why're you over there?"

"Malnourished," she says, eyeing the IV pole attached to the bed. "Got this thing for another couple of hours. But we made it to New Jersey. Thank God."

"Don't hear that every day." He tries to laugh but it comes out too rough and harsh. "Thank God for New Jersey." Castle sobers, the weight of everything crushing the breath from his lungs. "Kate. Our family."

She shakes her head, hand tightening on the sheets. "They're smart. We'll find them and figure this out and then we'll go home and─"

"Have our girl," he finishes when she runs out of air. "Or boy. I don't care as long as it's with you."

"Definitely good drugs," she sighs. "Normally your lines are much better than that romantic comedy stuff."

When he opens his eyes again, the sun is rising just over her shoulder.

Maybe Eliot was wrong.

Maybe this isn't the end of the world. Just the end of the world as he knew it.


End file.
